Pffft. “I’m not frightened of Madame Labelle.”
“The—the someone else, then?” His brows dipped together as he tried to make sense of my mood. My scowl softened, but only infinitesimally. Though Ansel had attempted to remain distant after our disaster in the library two days ago, his efforts had proved futile. Mostly because I wouldn’t allow it. Beyond Coco, he was the only person in this wretched Tower I liked.
Liar.
Shut up.
“There is no one else,” I lied. “But you can’t be too careful. Not that I don’t trust your superior fighting skills, Ansel, but I’d rather not leave my safety up to, well . . . you.”
His confusion changed to hurt—then anger. “I can handle myself.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“You’re not getting a weapon.”
I hauled myself to my feet and brushed a nonexistent speck of dirt from my pants. “We’ll see about that. Where did my unfortunate husband run off to? I need to speak with him.”
“He won’t give you one either. He’s the one who hid them in the first place.”
“Aha!” I threw a triumphant finger in the air, and his eyes widened as I advanced on him. “So he did hide them! Where are they, Ansel?” I jabbed his chest with my finger. “Tell me!”
He swatted at my hand and stumbled backward. “I don’t know where he put them, so don’t poke at me—” I poked him again, just for the hell of it. “Ouch!” He rubbed the spot angrily. “I said I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know!”
I dropped my finger, suddenly feeling much better. I chuckled despite myself. “Right. I believe you now. Let’s go find my husband.”
Without another word, I turned on my heel and marched out the door. Ansel sighed in resignation before following suit.
“Reid isn’t going to like this,” he grumbled. “Besides, I don’t even know where he is.”
“Well, what is it you all usually do during the day?” I made to pull open the door to the stairwell, but Ansel caught it and held it open for me. Okay, I didn’t just like him—I adored him. “I assume it involves kicking puppies or stealing the souls of children.”
Ansel looked around anxiously. “You can’t say things like that. It’s inappropriate. You’re a Chasseur’s wife now.”
“Oh, please.” I gave an exaggerated eye roll. “I thought I’d already made it clear I don’t give a rat’s ass about being appropriate. Shall I remind you? There are two more verses to ‘Big Titty Liddy.’”
He paled. “Please don’t.”
I grinned in approval. “Then tell me where I can find my husband.”
A short pause followed as Ansel considered whether I was serious about continuing my big-breasted ballad. He must’ve decided I was—wisely—because he soon shook his head and muttered, “He’s probably in the council room.”
“Excellent.” I looped my arm through his and bumped his hip playfully. He tensed at the contact. “Lead the way.”
To my frustration, my husband wasn’t in the council room. Instead, another Chasseur turned to greet me. His close-cropped black hair gleamed in the candlelight, and his pale green eyes—striking against his bronze face—narrowed when they found mine. I fought back a frown.
Jean Luc.
“Good morning, thief.” He recovered his composure quickly, sweeping into a deep bow. “What can I do for you?”
Jean Luc wore his emotions as plainly as his beard, so it’d been easy to recognize his weakness. Though he masqueraded under pretense of friendship, I recognized jealousy when I saw it. Especially the festering kind.
Unfortunately, I had no time to play today.
“I’m looking for my husband,” I said, already backing out of the room, “but I see he isn’t here. If you’ll excuse me—”
“Nonsense.” He pushed away the papers he’d been examining and stretched leisurely. “Stay awhile. I need a break, anyway.”
“And how exactly can I help with that?”
He leaned back against the table and crossed his arms. “What do you need from our dear captain?”
“A knife.”
He chuckled, running a hand down his jaw. “Persuasive as you are, it’s highly unlikely even you will be able to procure a weapon here. The Archbishop seems to think you’re dangerous. Reid, as always, interprets His Eminence’s opinion as the word of God.”
Ansel moved farther into the room. His eyes narrowed. “You shouldn’t speak that way about Captain Diggory.”
Jean Luc inclined his head with a mocking smile. “I speak only truth, Ansel. Reid is my closest friend. He’s also the Archbishop’s pet.” He rolled his eyes, lip curling as if the word left a rancid taste in his mouth. “The nepotism is staggering.”
“Nepotism?” I arched a brow, looking between the two of them. “I thought my husband was orphaned.”
“He was.” Ansel glared daggers at Jean Luc. I hadn’t realized he could look so . . . antagonistic. “The Archbishop found him in the—”
“Do save us the sob story, won’t you? We all have one.” Jean Luc dropped his hand and shoved away from the table abruptly. He glanced back at me before returning to his papers. “The Archbishop thinks he sees himself in Reid. They were both orphans, both hellions as children. But that’s where the similarities end. The Archbishop created himself from nothing. His life work, his title, his influence—he fought for all of it. Bled for all of it.” He sneered, crumpling one of his papers and chucking it at the bin. “And he plans to give it all to Reid for nothing.”
“Jean Luc,” I asked shrewdly, “are you an orphan?”
His gaze sharpened. “Why?”
“I— No reason. It doesn’t matter.”
And it didn’t. Really. I didn’t give a damn about Jean Luc’s issues. But for someone to be so wholly blind to his own emotions . . . no wonder he was bitter. Cursing myself for my curiosity, I redirected my thoughts to my purpose. Procuring a weapon was more important—and frankly, more interesting—than those three’s twisted love triangle.
“You’re right, by the way.” I shrugged as if bored, sauntering forward to trail my finger along the map. He eyed me suspiciously. “My husband doesn’t deserve any of this. It’s pathetic, really, the way he waits for the Archbishop’s beck and call.” Ansel shot me a bewildered look, but I ignored him, examining a bit of dust on my finger. “Like a good boy—begging for scraps.”
Jean Luc smiled, small and grim. “Oh, you are devious, aren’t you?” When I didn’t respond, he chuckled. “While I empathize with you, Madame Diggory, I’m not so easily manipulated.”
“You aren’t?” I cocked my head at him. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and leaned forward on his elbows. “I’m sure. For all Reid’s faults, he has good reason for hiding his weapons from you. You’re a criminal.”
“Right. Of course. It’s just—I thought it might be beneficial to both of us.”